Roger drifted in and out of consciousness, usually at the behest of some person asking him questions for which he had no answers. At first, he'd tried...to communicate, but his lips wouldn't form the words he wanted, and his answers never satisfied the inquisitor anyway. It wasn't long before he stopped trying, stopped speaking, and began to resent the intrusions. All he was interested in was the comforting isolation of unconsciousness, the peace and silence of that existence becoming like a. It felt so much different than before, yet at the same time, much more alike than he would have expected. In fact, the greatest change wasn't the slight weight on his chest...or even the strange lack of something between his legs. It was the fact that he was so much thinner...so much lighter. He felt almost as if he could jump all the way to the clouds. Movement seemed amazingly smooth, filled not with power but with grace and ease. Suddenly, Brydon noticed something out of the corner of his. More

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